


Desired Constellation

by SillyBlue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel, Depression, Fallen Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Postpartum Depression, Pregnant Castiel, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:17:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue/pseuds/SillyBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel wished he could share Dean's joy, but he couldn’t help being bitter. Fallen and barely able to function as a human man, he was required to take on a huge, terrifying responsibility: being a parent to the last miracle he had been able to perform.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an old prompt at the kinkmeme: Dean/fallen!Cas, past mpreg, postnatal depression, h/c.  
> I fell in love with the prompt and copied it to my “stories to write” document a long time ago, but only got around to tackle it in November. Most of the story was written in little daily snippets (from November 11 to January 7), causing this to be quite episodic in parts.
> 
> Title from a song of the same name by Björk.
> 
> More Warnings: mpreg, non-graphic birth, fallen!Cas, depression, slight body alteration due to the birth (includes lactation to feed the baby), the initial sex scene - while not properly described - being rough and unpleasant, Dean using female terms to refer to Castiel’s parental role, Dean not reacting well to Castiel's depression (see later chapter notes for further information).
> 
> This story is divided into three thematic parts; pregnancy, depression and recovery. If you want to skip the pregnancy and the birth, you might want to advance to part two.

Blood – vibrant red streaks spilling into bleary, cold, dry gray. The proof of Castiel’s humanity was just that: flesh bursting, bones pulverizing and nothing but blood. Dean was surprised and afraid and frustrated and shaken; emotions running too fast and too slow to react. Cas. Exploded. Blood. Dead. Just clumps of blood and he shouldn’t have noticed that in the human hollows was something else. But he saw it. It was pink and minuscule. It lighted up the blood as it fell with a grain of bluish light. A noise rang, then exploded into smears of ash.

There went the last bit of Grace, obliterated in a snap. There went Dean’s child.

And Lucifer said:

_“Interesting.”_

* * *

There was nothing beautiful about it.

Castiel’s head hung low, his shoulders slumped but there was tension in him, so much that he looked like he tried to break free of his skin. But he didn’t. Dean threw the bottle against the wall. It crashed, a smudge of foamy brown liquid splashing on the already stained plaster. Castiel looked up and Dean pushed him. The floorboard, old wood, rotten – in disrepair like so much of Bobby’s house – gave a creak of protest as Castiel landed heavily. Dean watched him, already a ruined thing, lying at his feet with the tie on wrong and the old coat slipping off one shoulder. It was cold and damp with the pouring rain, but Dean pulled the belt out of his jeans and got down. Castiel watched with apprehension, but he was unmoving, unresisting. Dean tore at Castiel’s trousers, feeling rushed, ferocious, angry. Down and away, past pale legs and catching on surprisingly beautiful and frail ankles. Castiel clawed at the wood, it cracked and splintered under his fingernails. And Dean lifted his legs, opening them and rearranging them over his shoulders.

They didn’t speak, but Castiel groaned when Dean clumsily pushed in his fingers and, not patient, not loving, not gentle slammed into him just moments later. Their moans and Dean’s panting was louder than the pattering of the rain, and the rusty rattling squeal of Bobby’s wheelchair. Dean didn’t care; he didn’t care that Bobby heard, didn’t care that Sam heard once he stopped sobbing. This was not intimate, this was not private. Dean moved violently and Castiel’s fingers dug into Dean’s upper arm as he raised himself to meet Dean’s thrusts.

There was nothing beautiful in Dean’s loud hiss when he came, nothing beautiful in those white stains on Castiel’s shirt.

Nothing.

Castiel lifted his hands to his face and hid his eyes with his sweaty palms. Dean didn’t feel any better. He lay down next to Castiel, listening to his stuttering breathing. The angel turned to his side and pressed his face against Dean’s chest, curling into him and Dean’s breath caught in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel whispered and Dean realized what this must have been like for him. Punishment for not being there, for letting Ellen and Jo die. Hatred. Rage. Violence.

That was their first time. Incidentally, it was also when their child was conceived.

 

* * *

Dean placed his palm in the small of Castiel’s back. The angel moved, stretching and arching to meet the rare gentle touch.

“There’s something wrong…” Castiel spoke into the pillow, but Dean kissed his shoulder blades and Castiel’s voice turned into a sigh. Dean’s mouth moved up as his hands travelled down, tracing the firm lines of Castiel’s body. He still felt delirious, disoriented, wrong. As if he had squeezed himself into the wrong dimension. He felt divided from his borrowed body even when Dean entered it with an already familiar, steady thrust. Dean touched and kissed and whispered promises and blasphemies into Castiel’s skin.

“I’m gonna make you…!” Dean groaned and the rest got lost in frantic movement and blinding seconds of ecstasy.

The fragment of Dean’s vow hung in the air, reverberating like the shuddering breaths Dean took. They stung in the cavity of Castiel’s ribcage, became things of menace and dark claws, sharp fangs. They took hold of the shards and pulled, pushed, rearranged.

_I’m gonna make you._

What would Castiel become when Dean was done?

Glimmering in the shadow of splintered Grace and shaken faith was Castiel’s final fall.

 

* * *

Falling.

He thought he’d crash and dissolve into earth. He thought that he’d be dust and clay. He thought that he’d become a wasteland, barren and abandoned.

But he hasn’t.

Grace and humanity were pushing at each other like tectonic plates until he felt as if he’d crack, shattering inside his borrowed body, leaving him quivering with human emotion, with human rage. But there was still more, he was still somewhere inside with a core of glistening brightness, with powers and abilities.

While his Grace withered, he had become soil – wet, pliable and fertile.

Dean however was cracking and crumbling, something deep inside fractured beyond repair. No more spark that had hope or faith. So Castiel said nothing and kept it as his secret.

As he slammed his hand to his bloodied chest he wondered what words he would have chosen. But it was simple, he saw that as his own bleeding Grace became painful and too bright.

“Dean, I am expecting your child.”

 

* * *

Castiel didn’t die and Dean didn’t say yes.

There was almost nothing left of him within his vessel. He felt the pains of mortality more than he felt his Grace. But it wasn’t completely gone. The child clung to it, just like Castiel did, but with both of them pulling, it was stretching and stretching. It was only a matter of time before it’d be extinguished.

He picked up the hospital phone and called Dean. Wearing only the thin gown he could see the shape of his body. It was slightly swollen around the middle, not yet suspicious enough for the doctors and nurses to prod. Suspicious enough for Castiel to confess.

“Dean?”

 _“Hold on… What?”_ The voice sounded incredulous and hoarse.

“I’m pregnant,” he merely repeated and silence followed once again. Castiel wondered if he should hang up now, but Dean spoke:

 _“I’m gonna pick you up. Don’t move anywhere.”_ Castiel didn’t tell him that he couldn’t without money unless he hitch-hiked. So he waited for Dean to come and felt his Grace thin out and the pain in his body ease into a duller discomfort.

He should probably get used to it.

 

* * *

He was dressed and sitting on the bed by the time Dean came into the hospital room like Michael advancing into battle. His expression was thunderous; a mix of worry hidden behind anger and confusion. His shoulders moved up when Castiel rose from the bed, his eyes focusing on his hidden middle, the new center of attention between them.

Dean didn’t ask questions until they were in a motel room 3 hours away from the hospital.

“What the hell did you mean? Were you being metaphorical?” Dean’s incredulity came as no surprise to Castiel, but it still made him tired.

“No…,” was the only thing he said and Dean exhaled loudly, wiping his palms over his face.

“But… how?” Even as Dean grappled with the truth he advanced, brushing the trench coat off Castiel’s shoulder.

“Probably because my Grace is failing and exerting minor creation energy where it’s not supposed to…” Castiel replied quietly but Dean was more concerned about stripping him of his layers than receiving the answer. Castiel stood naked before him and Dean could place his palms on the curve of the angel’s stomach.

“Shit,” Dean hissed. It was more obvious than Castiel had assumed. “I didn’t even…” No, of course Dean hadn’t noticed; he rarely bothered to take off his or Castiel’s clothes.

“I must have conceived after you failed to kill Lucifer.” Dean winced, digging his fingers into Castiel’s skin.

“That was almost five months ago,” Dean concluded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know. When I noticed you wanted to say yes to Michael. I was angry.” Dean shook his head, his expression pained and remorseful. He pulled at Castiel’s hips so that he could embrace him.

“I’m sorry,” Dean muttered against Castiel’s cheek, following his words with sweet, grateful kisses. “Shit… You’re pregnant!”

“Yes…” Castiel said nothing more, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck, opening his mouth to Dean.

“It’s gonna be alright, Cas. I’m gonna take care of you, baby. We’re getting through this.”

Castiel thought that a positive outcome was unlikely, but kept silent when Dean’s promises turned to gasps and moans.

 

* * *

Castiel wasn’t given a choice. Not really.

He had been brought back, his stomach rounded by a 6 month old creature and his body tingling with Grace. It was different though; the Grace felt fluid, evanescent - borrowed. With that much power he could alter time, re-create creation, rethink Heaven. Everything was at the tips of his fingers, powerful as his Father. He could form strong bars, hold on to the Grace and be an angel again. Soaring higher than Michael did, shining brighter than Lucifer.

But Dean was crouching on the floor, bleeding and weeping.

Castiel wasn’t given a choice. Not really.

It took a touch to heal Dean, a touch to revive Bobby. Dean kissed and embraced him, but there was grief and even a hint of anger in his eyes.

“I’m going to raise Sam,” Castiel told him. “I have the power.” Dean didn’t ask about consequences, he didn’t voice his fears. But he did say:

“I can’t lose you, Cas… I can’t.” So Castiel shook his head and kissed Dean’s cheek.

“You won’t.”

 

* * *

The Grace frayed and splintered off of him every minute he was fighting to bring Dean’s brothers back while leaving his own behind, howling and crying. This quicker fall was like being burned alive, wings igniting and Grace bursting in his body.

By the time he delivered Dean’s brothers to Bobby’s house he was weak and broken. He slept for two weeks.

 

* * *

Castiel knew he was less than pleasant company to be around right now. He was constantly hurting and frustrated. He had to sleep just to preserve the last wisps of his Grace. Dean said he got snarky when he was upset, but Castiel didn’t care much about civilities. So Dean packed their bags, deciding that the birth should better be a private affair for Castiel’s sake. Castiel wasn’t shy or ashamed or worried about decency, but he went with Dean, hoping that he wasn’t required to give birth in a motel room with thin walls or the backseat of the Impala.

“How are you gonna do it anyway?” Dean had chosen a cabin a friend of Bobby’s owned. It was surprisingly cozy and comfortable and not too far off from civilization should “complications” arise (Castiel doubted human doctors could help much if they ran into trouble.)

Dean had piled Castiel in a soft bed with layers of blankets and pillows. He felt like a bird in a nest. He was given a mug with tea, the only sustenance he agreed on imbibing, despite Dean’s other attempts.

“Are you comfortable, honey?” Dean asked casually, leaning over Castiel to kiss his mint flavored lips.

“Yes,” Castiel replied with a sigh, sipping his tea as Dean moved into bed next to him. “And I believe the Grace I have left will force this body to adapt to the birth. I’ve had a pain in my lower body for two days now.”

“Want me to check if-“ Dean’s question was silenced by Castiel’s blank, but irritated look. “Okay, so I don’t have to cut you open?”

“No…” Castiel put the mug on the side table and sighed, turning towards Dean. He put his arms around Dean and rested his head on his chest.

“It won’t take much longer, right?” Dean wondered and Castiel closed his eyes.

“No… Almost there.”

He had almost crashed to earth.

 

* * *

Not 10 days after they’ve settled into the cabin Castiel’s light sleep was disturbed by a sudden flare of the ever present pain. It shot through him from his abdomen, up his spine and down to his toes. He gasped and by the time Dean had run into the bedroom Castiel had become aware of the slick wetness between his legs.

“Cas…?” Dean sounded insecure and afraid, standing at the bedside while Castiel tried to regain his breath. His chest was burning, a tight heat that spread into his fingertips, and his heartbeat was like a frightened rabbit’s.

“I’m in pain,” he said and Dean had the good graces not to call him out on stating the obvious. Instead he put the kettle on the fire, lifted Castiel out of the soiled sheets, undressed him, changed the covers and then handed him tea. He sat on a chair next to the bed and waited.

Labor was terrible, not bearable like he had expected from the reading he and Adam had done on the subject. It was a constant, crippling anguish, unlike the things he had felt before. Angels were good warriors, but they were vulnerable to pain that went deep enough to touch them.

5 hours in Castiel started crying, unsettling Dean so much that the hunter temporarily fled into the woods. Castiel was too pained to begrudge him his cowardice, but that didn’t stop him from sobbing in relief when Dean returned half an hour later with an ashamed expression and just held him for the next hour, not speaking, just Castiel’s sobbing and panting between them.

 

* * *

Castiel was used to waiting even in stressful situations. But this was different; he felt suspended in a moment of muddied awareness, of mint flavor and bile on his tongue, of damp heat all around and within.

Dean alternatively sat at his bedside or took to pacing the claustrophobic, reeking space of the cabin.

“Dean,” Castiel muttered, delirious almost but Dean was there to grasp his hands. “I’m hot…” He felt a sweaty, but cool palm against his cheek.

“I’ll run you a shower,” Dean suggested and helped Castiel out of bed. His legs were shaking and Dean supported him to the bathroom. He was lifted into the bathtub and blissfully cool water rained down on Castiel’s head.

“Just call me, okay honey?” Castiel’s head was too heavy to nod, his throat too sore to speak. The water didn’t soothe the pain, but it took the edge off the panic Castiel started to feel at the bursts of heat within his chest and in the core of his pregnant belly. He was burning up his Grace as his body was forced to adapt to the child. It shouldn’t have happened, his Grace shouldn’t have allowed this. But, weakening as it had been then already, his body had accommodated Dean. And here he was, a shattered thing between angel and human, crying as the cold water turned a sickly rusty color when it mixed with the Grace tinted blood trickling from tearing flesh.

“It’s been well over 12 hours now, Sam.” Dean’s voice carried over from the living room. “I don’t care if that’s normal for first time moms! I’m worried he’s not gonna make it!” Yes, Castiel was worried about that too, but he didn’t care as much as he should. “Do you really wanna know that?” There was a pause in Dean’s conversation in which Castiel shifted, letting the spray hit his face, before reaching out to switch it off. “It’s not exactly a vagina, more like a tear below his dick, man… I fucking hope he’ll heal afterwards. It’s seriously messing up his junk.” Castiel wondered about that, it was true that his genitals have changed slightly for the birth. It was questionable that they would change back. “I don’t care if he’s got a dick or not, that’s not my point, Jesus Christ, Sam! Keep your emotional crap about my sexual preferences to your diary.” There was another pause. “No… Just… I don’t know. I guess it’s more waiting then… I’ll keep you updated. Bye Sam.”

Castiel looked up when Dean reappeared in the bathroom to lift him out and bring him back to the cleaned bed for more waiting.

 

* * *

Dean’s mouth was soft and wet, dragging over Castiel’s too red lips. Dean was tired too, his face sweaty and his hair messed up.

“How are you holding up, Cas?” Dean asked and Castiel felt him touch his shoulder, then his stomach. “You’re burning up…”

“That’s my Grace,” Castiel said hoarsely. “It’s not natural, I wasn’t supposed to have children, Dean.”

“You don’t say…” Dean mumbled, sounding both tired and slightly amused. “So it’s gotta go out now?” Castiel nodded, letting his head fall back against the pillows. The thin blanket that had covered Castiel’s lower body was lifted away and Castiel parted his legs when Dean touched his knees. Dean made a sympathetic wincing noise at what he saw. His fingers prodded at the inflamed, torn skin, but Castiel had trouble telling what Dean did among the pain. “That stuff’s like lube, man… I mean there’s a bit of blood too, but it’s mostly a clear, gooey liquid…” Castiel didn’t say anything but he gave a start when he felt Dean slip his fingers inside the opening. “Sorry baby…” Dean muttered, even as his fingers probed and stretched. “It doesn’t look like a wound… I think you’re actually set…?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel replied tersely.  He had never done this before and the pain of his failing Grace and the birth drove him half mad. Dean emerged from his crouching position between Castiel’s knees, wiping his slick hands on his shirt. He sat down on the bed next to Castiel and Castiel immediately put his arms around him.

“We’ll get you through this,” Dean whispered into Castiel’s hair, kissing his head.

“I’m afraid,” Castiel confessed and felt Dean nod. He was too, Castiel knew that, but it wasn’t parenthood Castiel was so terrified of.

“Start pushing with the next contraction?”

“I don’t have contractions, Dean,” Castiel reminded him. Dean slipped out of the embrace to squeeze Castiel’s shoulder.

“Yeah… Okay. Next time the pain gets so intense you wanna force this kid out. Okay?” Castiel wasn’t convinced by this advice, but he nodded.

“Yes…” Dean smiled at him and kissed him again.

“Time to welcome our little trouble maker,” Dean joked and Castiel sighed. He waited for his Grace to give another dying flare.

 

* * *

Castiel wasn’t ready. Dean’s encouraging words and the gentle touches were only a very small comfort. Castiel wanted it to be over, the foreign organism out of his usurped body. He wanted the pain to be gone, he wanted to stop panting and writhing and crying.

But he wasn’t ready. He didn’t want to let go.

“Cas, Cas you’re doing so well. You’re perfect. It’s almost over,” Dean told him, a steady mumbling stream of pointless words, and leant over his body to pet his hair. “Just a bit more, sweetheart.” Castiel grit his teeth and didn’t answer. He felt like he was suffocating, the pressure in his body pulling him taunt, the pain like violent electric discharges. “That’s it, baby, that’s it!” Dean called, attention back to Castiel’s lower body. “Shit! There it is!” Castiel winced as Dean grabbed his thighs too strongly. “Come on, baby!” Castiel wasn’t sure who Dean was talking to, but he shook his head, covering his wet face with his palms.

“No… No more… I don’t want to…”

“You’re almost there, Cas! You can do it!” Castiel bit his lips.

He wasn’t ready, he wasn’t ready.

And his Grace was sucked out of him, a gigantic pull that stole the last of his breath.

“Yeah, yeah – alright! _Alright_!” Dean shouted in triumph and while Castiel could hear the joy in his voice he sank back into the covers.

Empty.

The newborn started crying. “Welcome to the Winchester family,” Dean whispered, his voice low in awe, even as the child continued wailing. Castiel had a few moments to recover his breath and fight the burning in his eyes before Dean spoke again. “And here’s your mommy, kiddo.” Dean lowered the child to Castiel’s heaving chest. It was warm and wet, only partly cleaned of the birth fluids but its crying died down to irregular gurgling hiccups.

“It’s a boy, Cas! I can’t believe it…! You’re awesome!” Dean pressed a kiss to Castiel’s sweaty brow. He didn’t speak, feeling the baby adjust to his loose hold. Small, fragile, pink. A pile of flesh, bones and blood. There was nothing more. Castiel saw nothing more.

A newly born human.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part is mainly about Castiel's postpartum depression, additional warnings are: fallen!Cas, Dean not dealing all too well with Cas' depression at times (he's impatient, gets loud and demanding, wanting Cas to engage with their child), small mentions of illness (motion sickness, food poisoning), lactation (feeding the baby), mild sexual content.
> 
> This part is less fragmented than the last and also over twice as long ;D

The first days passed Castiel in a delirious, disconnected blur of sounds, images and fragments of dreams.

When he finally regained consciousness Dean was looking down at him. He seemed tired, but he smiled gently.

“Look who’s awake,” he whispered and kissed Castiel. “How’re you feeling, honey?” Castiel breathed slowly and evenly, trying to orient himself. His body felt heavy and sore.

“Tired… Pained…” Castiel answered and Dean pressed another lingering kiss on his lips.

“It’s okay to feel drained.” Castiel assumed that this was a painfully accurate description. “You’ve been running a high fever the last two days. You were barely conscious… And you gave birth…” Castiel sighed. He hadn’t forgotten. “The boy’s sleeping – finally. Do you want anything?” Castiel, with Dean’s help, sat up and rubbed his forehead. His hand came back greasy. His mouth tasted bad, he had sweated, he was hungry and thirsty and his bladder was full.

“I need to use the bathroom…” he said and Dean nodded.

“You… haven’t healed properly… And…” He trailed off but Castiel assumed he had soiled himself during his fever. He wasn’t feeling particularly ashamed about that, just endlessly tired. Moving was painful, his lower body burned and stung.

“I can’t heal anymore,” he said. It had been so easy to heal Dean 3 months ago and now he couldn’t even remember how to do it. He took a deep breath to brace himself against the reality of his state, but he felt his composure slip out of his grasp. “I need to eat and relieve myself and be medically treated if necessary…” Castiel felt Dean’s grip on his upper arm clench.

“That’s alright.”

Castiel thought it wasn’t.

He was human. Dean couldn’t do anything but hold him when Castiel bent over the sink, sobbing.

 

* * *

A still full plate of food stood on the small table in front of the couch, but Castiel ignored it. Dean was frustrated, but he gave up for the moment. He left Castiel in the living room and turned his attention to the complaining infant lying on their bed. Castiel had retreated to the worn couch as soon as he’s recovered from crying and now he wrapped himself in a thin blanket. It was a very small comfort and it disquieted him that a mere piece of fabric could be soothing. It had never occurred to him to shield himself against frustration and pain like that.

Dean sat down next to him now, the squirming and whimpering child in his arms.

“He’s been very fussy… Crying a lot, not eating the formula Adam packed for us…” Dean explained while shifting the baby so he was within easy reach for Castiel. He was very small, with chubby little limbs, a pink, scrunched up face and a surprising amount of dark blonde hair. “I’ve kept him mostly away from you when you were running the fever… He must be grumpy…” The baby gave a small grunt even as Dean bent over him to kiss his wrinkled forehead. “Grumpy little baby didn’t get his grabby hands on mommy?” Dean’s way of talking was odd, but Castiel knew that humans spoke differently to animals and young children. Castiel gave a start when Dean straightened and he found himself with a lapful of baby. He stared down at the suddenly still infant and lifted his eyes to look at Dean. The Hunter was beaming, looking at Castiel fondly.

“Dean,” Castiel started, trying not to sound too desperate, “I don’t think-“ Dean just laughed and took Castiel’s hands in his. He guided them to the infant and forced Castiel to pick him up.

A rising panic coursed through Castiel when the baby became a foreign weight in his arms. He felt too heavy for his fragile, human limbs to carry. His heartbeat picked up, blood rushed in his ears. He didn’t hear what Dean was saying but he jerked back when he felt something warm and wet experimentally tug at his chest.

Dean’s laughter made it through the pounding in his ears. Castiel looked down at the source of the stabs of pain, finding the baby attaching himself to one of his nipples, wet stains forming on Castiel’s thin t-shirt.

“I guess he’s hungry after all. Not quite an angel-baby, are you?” Even as Dean said that he looked at Castiel quizzically. Castiel didn’t now. He had no idea what this infant was. Dean raised his eyebrows when Castiel didn’t say anything. “Uh… I don’t think you’ve got any milk for him…? It seems to be the only thing he’s interested in…” Castiel wanted to remind him that he was still in a male vessel – that he was a _man_ now – but the pain in his breast and the stain on the shirt gave him pause. Dean apparently had noticed too, because he reached out to push the shirt upwards and gently drew his fingertip over one of Castiel’s red nipples, right next to his child’s mouth. His finger came back wet with more than just baby spit. Even as Dean seemed to be reservedly jubilant about this turn of events, Castiel couldn’t help being bitter. This child had cost him a lot; he had fallen, he was weak and shaken and not even a proper human man. And the boy continued changing him with his needs. Dean put his hands on the child too, stabilizing and guiding and Castiel flinched when the boy found what he was looking for and started suckling.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Dean kissed his wet cheeks.

 

* * *

According to Adam Castiel had to eat simple, healthy food, but above all, he _really_ needed to eat.

“And going out once wouldn’t be such a bad idea,” Dean insisted with a hint of impatience in his voice. He placed the boy into Castiel’s lap. “Hold his head, Cas, will you?” Castiel slowly adjusted his hands on the infant. “You haven’t left the bedroom apart from toilet breaks. Either you lie in bed or you stare out of the window.” Or sit on the couch, Castiel thought, when the baby was on the bed and Dean let him get away with it.

“I’m tired,” Castiel said and Dean smiled tightly. Castiel knew that almost a week after the birth, Dean started to be less sympathetic to this excuse not to participate in the trial and error beginnings of life as a human (maybe mostly human) family.

“Okay, Cas….” Dean pressed a kiss to Castiel’s forehead and lifted the baby off of Castiel. Castiel got up swiftly and walked over to the window, half turned away from Dean. “It’s been a few hours, you’ll probably need to nurse the boy later on.” Castiel pressed his shoulder against the window frame defensively, not saying anything, and Dean sighed. “Okay…” He left and Castiel could hear him running the water in the kitchen after a while. His shoulders slumped and he leaned his head against the glass. He turned to look out of the window, hands tucked into his armpits. He felt chilled even in the almost suffocating space of the bedroom.

He heard Dean muttering something and looked away from the heavy, unmoving late August landscape outside. He slowly walked to the door and saw Dean carrying the baby around the kitchen table. He held the infant with ease and it looked loving, gentle and sure, as if he had been made for holding life in his hands. Not Castiel though. He used to be a soldier, he wasn’t made for nurturing, it wasn’t in his nature to care for children.

Dean kissed the boy’s rounded, pink cheeks again and again, stroking his hair with affection. Castiel longed for it too. He craved companionship, closeness, affection now that he was deprived of the Host, but his fear of the child drove him to isolation.

They looked so happy. Castiel wished he could feel differently.

The whistling of the kettle broke Castiel out of his thoughts and spurred the child into a series of high pitched wails, but a crying fit was averted by Dean’s gentle talking.

“Tea, baby,” Dean said, not even turning to where Castiel was partially hiding in the doorframe. He reluctantly left the bedroom and crossed the living room to step into the kitchen area, avoiding to brush too closely past Dean and the child. Dean seemed weary but didn’t say anything when Castiel silently poured tea and coffee. “It’s been six days, Cas. I think we should name him,” Dean mused, drinking his coffee while slightly bouncing the lying baby on his thighs. Castiel looked at him uneasily, which caused Dean to lift an eyebrow. Dean put down his coffee and pulled his chair closer to Castiel’s so their knees were touching and the infant tossed one chubby arm on Castiel’s knee. A small fist anchoring Castiel to the chair.

The child’s eyes -  a deep blue with a dark, almost black ring – turned upwards, away from looking at Dean towards Castiel. Castiel held his breath like he always did when under the scrutiny of the infant. Dean tickled the exposed stomach of the boy, but the staring continued until he at last made a gurgling noise and beat his little fists against Dean’s thighs.

“Ah, you liked that, don’t you? Soul-staring into mommy?”

“The soul isn’t visible in a human’s eyes,” Castiel retorted weakly, inching back on his chair as far as possible. Dean groaned silently, but then he looked at Castiel expectantly. “I can’t name him, Dean.”

“Why not?” Dean wondered.

“Angels instinctively know their own name, so there’s no need to decide for a fledgling…,” he started explaining, but feared that in the end Dean wouldn’t understand.

“Fledgling?” Castiel nodded slowly, looking into his tea.

“Newborn angels,” he clarified. Dean’s eyes flitted to his child.

“Well… That might be the case but we can’t wait until he’s old enough to babble out his name for us. We need to name him,” Dean decided. Castiel didn’t feel like a name for the infant was all that important. He was what he was; an infant, a little boy, maybe human, maybe not.

“Humans have been given the ability to name and appropriate things… It would be presumptuous of an angel to usurp God’s gift to man,” Castiel said and lifted his eyes. Dean was frowning at him again.

“Right.” He was still bouncing his knees. “Sorry to break it to you, Cas, but you’re one of us too now.” Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand when he looked away. “Got it, Cas? You’re human! So you might as well stop moping and help me here!” Dean gave Castiel wrist a shake and Castiel took a deep breath through is nose. He looked up at Dean. He didn’t say anything, but slowly pulled his hand out of Dean’s grasp and walked back to the bedroom, closing the door. He wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and pressed his forehead against the window.

The boy started crying in the kitchen.

 

* * *

When Dean poked his head into the bedroom, Castiel was lying on the bed with his head towards the foot end, looking at the reddish sky visible through the window.

“Cas…” Dean whispered and kneeled on the floor in front of him and cradled his face in his palms. He kissed his forehead and his eyelids. “Are you okay?” Dean kept his lips pressed to Castiel’s skin, a slightly wet warmth. Castiel melted into the touch even as his throat closed and his eyes burned hotly.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel whispered and Dean kissed him again. “I’m not…” Dean lifted his lips and in a rush of dread Castiel was quick to add: “But I’ll try to get better.”

“Cas… It’s okay… I know you need time… But the boy needs you too, we can’t afford to give you all the time you need to recover…” Castiel wanted to tell him that it was not a question of recovering, but rather one of coming to terms with his humanity, but he didn’t want to risk starting an argument.

“I understand,” he said instead and let Dean help him up. Dean brushed his chest and Castiel flinched slightly.

“I’ve made you some – Cas? Everything alright?” Castiel nodded, rubbing his fingers tenderly on his chest.

“I’m just sore…,” he said and Dean looked concerned before putting his palms flat on Castiel. “Dean…”

“Well… Feels swollen… I guess you should feed the baby, maybe that’d help…?” he suggested and Castiel let himself be pulled into the living room where the baby was waving his fists into the air while lying on the couch. Castiel sat down, pulling his shirt up while Dean lifted the child.

“And? Are you hungry?” The boy didn’t reply but he seemed excited. “Wanna make mommy hold you?” Dean brought the baby up to kiss him. “Not happy with just daddy, are you, squirt?” The baby gurgled, making smacking noises, and Dean handed him to Castiel. Castiel still tensed up when he had the warm infant pressed against his chest. “Relax, Cas…”

“I can’t relax… I don’t know what to do with him, Dean,” he replied and Dean sat down right next to him, putting his arm around his shoulders.

“Hey, baby steps, Cas… We’ll figure it out,” he insisted, kissing his temple and nuzzling his hairline with his nose. “I was thinking about calling him John, you know? But it’s not all too imaginative considering mom did the same…” Castiel turned his head slightly to look at Dean. “I mean call her children after her parents… So I thought maybe after your family?”

“My family?” Castiel repeated in surprise and Dean nodded.

“Not the bad ones though, okay? I’m not gonna call him Zachariah or Uriel. But maybe your closest siblings… Or your mom? Do you have a mom?”

“Well… I guess, but it’s not like with humans, Dean… Fledglings aren’t raised by those that were central to their creation… There’s a special group of lower caste angels nursing the few fledglings before they are admitted to their posts.”

“Odd…”

“Only for you, Dean…,” Castiel replied quietly over the noisy suckling of the child. “For me this is stranger…” Even if he had created a fledgling it wouldn’t have been like Dean wanted this to be. There were no filial bonds between angels, not even between the vulnerable fledglings and their caretakers. Angels just weren’t like humans and even if he had fallen into mortality he couldn’t just change his mindset and all he had known within mere days.

“Hmm,” Dean hummed and his lips traced Castiel’s cheekbones. “So-“

“I appreciate that you want to honor me by naming him after one of my siblings, but I’d prefer if we didn’t…” Castiel admitted and Dean sighed, but nodded. Castiel looked down at the baby slobbering over his chest, his eyes drooping. “I think he’s done…”

“Okay… Here, let me take him,” Dean said and picked the baby up. Castiel watched him stand up, lightly rubbing the back of the child and walking around. “We’ll decide later…” Castiel nodded slowly, then he retreated into the kitchen.

 

* * *

Night fell late, heavy with noises and leftover heat. When Castiel could see the now distant stars sparkle, Sam Winchester came through the cabin’s door.

“Sammy!” Dean called joyously and Castiel peeked out of the bedroom to see the brothers hug affectionately.

“Hey Dean! You look tired, man!” Castiel assumed it was true; Dean got only a fracture of the sleep Castiel did. Dean however merely chuckled in reply and Sam sat down the bag he had carried over his shoulder. “And? Where’s the kid? Don’t keep me waiting!”

“Hey, I did send you pictures!” Dean reminded him, but he was eager to pick the boy out of his fortress of blankets on the couch. “And there you go. This is your uncle Sammy.” Dean carefully put the infant into Sam’s arms. The younger Winchester had awe written all over his face and held the child with reverence.

“Oh my God, Dean…” Castiel heard Sam breathe and finally dared to leave the bedroom. “He’s beautiful.” Dean swelled with pride even as Sam still stared at the child with moist eyes. He looked up when Castiel reached the couch and smiled at him. It was a wonderful, bright smile. “Hi Castiel!” Sam’s smile dimmed slightly when he took in Castiel’s pajama clad figure. “You’ve lost weight… Are you okay?”

“It’s stressful,” Castiel said, not wanting to ruin the mood with a more elaborate answer. Dean took hold of his arm and pulled him close but didn’t say anything. Sam nodded understandingly and looked back down at the child.

“You haven’t told me his name,” he said and Castiel felt Dean tense slightly.

“He doesn’t have one yet… We haven’t decided…” Sam lifted an eyebrow and Dean colored slightly. “But I’ve thought about it… I kinda like Tobias.”

“Tobias?” Sam repeated and Castiel looked at Dean in surprise. “How come?” Dean shrugged.

“I’ve got no clue. It just feels right.” Judged by Sam’s curious expression he wasn’t as convinced of this explanation as Castiel was.

“And Cas? You’re okay with Tobias?” Sam queried and even though Dean sent him a vaguely nervous look Castiel nodded. Sam smiled and looked down at the boy. “Okay. Tobias Winchester. Hi Tobias!” Dean grinned proudly and Sam kissed Tobias’ head. “He’s got a lot of hair for a newborn,” he joked then he looked down at him again. “How’s he doing with food? You mentioned that he doesn’t eat or poop and-“

“Nah… I guess he’s not fully angelic… Cas can’t say. But he’s drinking alright.”

“Adam’s formula? He made me pack another brand just in case…” Castiel lowered his head when Dean’s eyes flitted to the side. Sam frowned slightly.

“What, guys?”

“Cas is feeding him…” The way Dean sounded – like a small child caught doing something naughty – sent a faint heat to Castiel’s cheeks. Should he be embarrassed about his unconventional body? He had felt unsure about his indefinite state, but Dean reacting this way made him fear that there were many reasons to be embarrassed. Sam lifted an eyebrow and even though there was a slight red tint to his cheeks too, he seemed interested.

“You’re lactating?” Dean winced at that but Sam shushed him. “You’ve still got Grace to do that?”

“No…” Castiel admitted. “I think it’s either still an effect of the changes my body underwent while I was pregnant or the child is influencing me…” Both Winchesters looked at the child, who turning his eyes to the side, curiously blinking at his father.

“He can do that?” Dean wondered, using the hand that wasn’t holding Castiel to tickle Tobias’ feet. He kicked faintly.

“If he’s angelic or a Nephilim he will have certain supernatural abilities…” Castiel explained.

“How will we know?” Sam wondered and when the boy started squirming he handed him back to Dean. “Are there any signs?” Castiel lowered his eyes. Of course there were, he just couldn’t see them anymore.

“I think we need to wait… I know nothing about the development of fledglings in the early days… But since there was a human involved in his conception I assume it’s safer to expect him to show qualities of a Nephilim…” Both Sam and Dean refrained from asking questions, apparently they’ve already done their bit of research. “He certainly is an unconventional one… But we’ll know; Nephilim weren’t that different from humans… It might take a while…”

“But you don’t think he’s entirely human,” Sam asked and Castiel looked at Tobias getting comfortable in Dean’s arms. The bright blue eyes turned from Dean’s face to his own. He felt cold at once, his fingers trembling and his stomach coiling. This child put him ill at ease; he didn’t want to stay here much longer.

“No…,” he said and even as he took a step back he felt Dean put his fingers around his wrist gently. “I’m… I’m sorry… I’m sore… and sweaty… I’ll take a shower.” Dean looked at him, his eyes half concerned and half irritated.

“Okay… But you’ll eat something when you’re done. Deal?”

“I don’t want to make deals, Dean,” Castiel replied and slipped out of Dean’s reach, sending the brothers what he hoped to be an apologetic look. Then he locked himself into the bathroom.

 

* * *

The Winchesters were talking in slightly hushed voices by the time Castiel finally left the bathroom.

“I’m not sure what I can do, Sam. He isn’t doing well and he doesn’t want to touch Toby unless he has to.”

“Cut him some slack Dean… He’s human now. He’s bound to be tired.”

Castiel walked into the kitchen and Dean looked like a startled animal. “Hey Cas, do you feel better?” Sam asked, his voice easy and patient. Castiel pulled his cardigan around his shoulders.

“Yes… Do you want dinner?” he asked the brothers and put the kettle on the stove.

“I was thinking about doing some shopping for Toby, seeing as you two haven’t been able to yet. But I’d love to have dinner with you guys,” Sam answered. Castiel turned away from the stove, leaning against it.

“Shopping?”

“Like clothes… We aren’t exactly equipped for a baby,” Dean explained and Castiel refrained from pointing out just how true that was.

“And I doubt you two want to stay here and start decorating the nursery,” Sam mused.

“It’s not like I’d prefer a motel room,” Dean added flatly and Sam smiled.

“Bobby’s already looking into it. I mean, what are a few faked legal documents more. I’m sure he’ll have you three up and running in a heartbeat!” he assured them and Castiel frowned.

“What about you?” he asked and both Winchesters seemed surprised.

“He’s right… You can’t stay at Bobby’s forever. Now that Hunting is off the table for the moment you should try for that apple pie life too.” Sam smiled gently and nodded.

“Sure, but you’re a new family…”

“We could use another pair of hands, right, baby?” Dean asked but colored instantly when he met Castiel’s eyes. “Uh…”

"I don’t know… Do I have to get used to your terms of endearment?“ Sam joked but he actually looked relieved and touched. Dean still glared at his brother.

“Dean’s right…” Castiel agreed and Sam beamed at them.

“Well… okay, I’ll go buy some stuff. You don’t even have a crib, guys!”

“He’s sleeping in our bed,” Dean countered. “It’s not as if we’re making him sleep in the bathtub!” Sam laughed, shaking his head.

“Alright then, but I think the new parents could do with a little privacy from time to time.” With an uncharacteristically mischievous wink, Sam left the cabin. Dean looked at Castiel and lifted an eyebrow.

“It’s been a while,” he said and Castiel frowned in confusion, turning to the stove.

“What, Dean?” he asked, but tensed when he felt Dean’s arm circle around his middle. A soft, lingering kiss was pressed to his neck. Castiel got what Dean and Sam had meant.

“I’m,” he started, trying to find acceptable words, “I’m not in the mood, Dean,” he said after a while. “And I want to cook.” He hoped that Dean would drop the subject, but was already bemoaning the impending loss of caresses he’d receive.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Dean said with a small chuckle, “I’m pretty beat anyway.” Castiel was surprised to hear that. Dean’s palms gently rubbed Castiel’s stomach, then his chest. “But we don’t have to stop touching, right?” Castiel couldn’t help smiling slightly and he turned his head around to put a kiss to Dean’s chin.

“No… Of course not.”

 

* * *

Sam’s presence changed something in their dynamics. Sam – like Dean – noticed Castiel’s reluctance to interact with Tobias, but he didn’t drop the baby into his lap, or make him bathe with him or what else Dean usually did. Sam had a different approach and it was coaxing Castiel out of hiding. Castiel was quite aware of what both Winchesters did, but Sam was more subtle, gentler in his insistence.

He woke him, they prepared breakfast together, discussed while everyone sat in the living room and he even got Castiel to take a walk outside while Tobias was sleeping. Castiel liked spending time with his family, even though he rarely interacted with Tobias as Sam and Dean did. Strictly speaking, it was limited to feeding and watching him when Dean was sleeping or away.

“You’re really a good cook,” Sam complimented. He’s been staying with them for 3 days. “It’s a pity you don’t eat more of it…” Castiel put the dishes into the sink with a soft clank.

“Sam…” He knew what was coming now and he had heard it before.

“Look, Cas. All I’m saying is that you should put on some weight and muscle. You’ve been requiring food for less than two weeks and Dean’s been worried sick about it. And it’s not just him. Honestly, I just want you to be healthy…” Castiel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I know… but I just don’t feel like eating…”

“But your food really is good!” Sam insisted and Castiel’s mouth twitched.

“Cas?” Dean called from the bedroom. “I think Toby’s hungry!” Both Sam and Castiel could hear the whimpering that got louder steadily. “Alright! The siren’s on!” Dean warned and Tobias started crying in earnest. “It’s okay! Mommy’s coming! Mommy!” Castiel lowered his head and sighed.

“I’ll do the dishes,” Sam said awkwardly, an apology in his eyes. Castiel assumed that Sam – at least on an intellectual level – could understand what he was feeling.

“Thank you,” Castiel said, then he left Sam to his own devices, following the crying of the child.

 

* * *

By the time Sam announced that Bobby had found them a house, 2 weeks had passed since Tobias’ birth.

“I’m glad to sleep in a real bed again,” Sam said, putting the rest of their meager belongings into the trunk of Dean’s car. Castiel stood on the porch of the cabin even though Dean had long locked the door.

“You coming, Cas?” Dean called from the car. Castiel didn’t move. He didn’t fell like he _could_ move, even if he wanted to.

“I don’t want to leave,” he muttered, loud enough for both Winchesters to hear.

“I’m sure the new house is nicer, Cas,” Dean tried to reassure him, but the look he darted Sam bordered on helplessness. Sam hissed something at Dean that only made Dean fidget. Sam jerked his head in Castiel’s direction and Dean drew a breath. He looked into his car. Finding Tobias in no danger of rolling off the seat, he left Sam’s side to go to Castiel. Wordlessly he folded him in a tight embrace and Castiel closed his eyes.

“I’m afraid…” Castiel said and Dean kissed his cheek, his jaw, anything he could reach without letting go.

“We can do it, Cas… Don’t worry too much. Baby steps, right?” Castiel breathed in deeply, exhaling loudly afterwards.

He didn’t want to move out and advance, not yet. Baby steps. He felt that Tobias would be more successful in learning to walk than he’d be.

“Okay…,” he said in the end and left the porch.

 

* * *

In the four hours it took to move, Castiel learned a number of things. He now knew that the house had belonged to a Hunter’s wife who had by chance called Bobby to get rid of both the house and her late husband’s belongings. He learnt that it was just a bit away from the suburbs, enough to be rural with lots of lands for Tobias to play in. He had learnt that Sam would stay with them if nothing else came up (but “nothing else” only held meaning for the brothers and Castiel was left to ponder). It was also revealed that Tobias slept fitfully to Dean’s music and the rocking of the car, squirming in his seat and uttering noises of discomfort. And he had to find out that travelling like this, with the bumps in the road and Tobias whimpering and crying and thrust in his arms to calm him was even more unpleasant than it had been before. When he had still been an angel, crammed into the tiny space of the slow vehicle.

“Jesus Christ, Cas! Let’s move you to the front seat!” Dean decided, awkwardly patting Castiel’s back as he sat with his head between his knees, taking deep gulps of road-side air. It stank of tarmac, fumes and vomit.

“Just half an hour more,” Sam said, handing Castiel water. “I’m sorry.” Castiel shook his head. It wasn’t the Winchesters’ fault that he got motion-sick. But being confined in the car had caused a mild panic that hadn’t really helped his stomach. And, cross as he was at being violently ill more than once, he did slightly hold it against the three Winchesters.

“You didn’t have this problem before,” Dean said.

“I wasn’t human before,” Castiel snapped back, instantly wincing when he saw Dean’s startled, then disgruntled face. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he muttered and Dean’s entire form sagged with his heavy sigh. “I’d like to sit in the front,” he added.

“Don’t apologize, Cas… It’s okay to be frustrated,” Sam said, pulling Castiel up and giving his space over. Castiel didn’t say anything. It had been the first time anyone had said this to him.

Was it okay to be frustrated, Castiel wondered when he was squeezed between Dean and Tobias’  baby seat. Dean smiled tensely when Castiel looked at him.

It probably wasn’t okay to _still_ be frustrated.

 

* * *

The new house was of moderate size, a sturdy structure of dark brick and pale whitewash and lots of grass. No trees or bushes or flowers. Just grass and more grass stretching almost endlessly until it met a field of corn.

“I’ll take Toby,” Sam volunteered and Castiel turned away from his survey of the front yard (herbs and spices, dried flowers, signs of warding, yellowing grass next to the pathway) to see Sam and Dean exchange a look. Sam took the baby seat and walked up to the house. The wooden boards creaked loudly when he crossed the veranda.

“How are you, Cas?” Dean asked and stepped close to him, fingers brushing Castiel’s hips.

“Better… I’m glad we arrived.” Dean nodded and Castiel lifted an eyebrow at Dean’s stare. “What?” Dean averted his eyes and shuffled his feet.

“There’s something I’d like to do…,” Dean confessed and while Castiel was a bit weary of what it could be, there was no mischief in Dean’s expression. It was shy, hopeful, a bit terrified. Castiel nodded.

“Then do.” Dean’s smile was dazzling and Castiel was lifted off his feet. He made a small confused sound as Dean carried him to the house and up the steps to the veranda.

“That’s it,” Dean muttered against Castiel’s forehead and kissed it. “Home.” Castiel looked at him, still surprised, but then he returned Dean’s smile. It was enough for Dean to carry Castiel over the porch and into the building. He exhaled the breath he had been holding as he moved his feet over the threshold.

“Congratulations,” Sam joked, but Dean ignored him, placing kiss upon kiss on Castiel’s face. “Ugh! You two!” Castiel could hear Sam muttering things and Tobias’ answering cooing before Sam walked away and Dean’s lips found his. Castiel was surprised at the hunger in the movement of their mouths.

“Our home, Cas,” Dean said and put Castiel down on his feet. His hands didn’t leave him though, travelling up Castiel’s back to bury themselves in Castiel’s hair. “ _Finally_.”

 

* * *

The house was a lot of empty space, even after a week of decorating. Castiel found himself wandering the corridors and going into the silent, unused rooms. The nursery was done, but Castiel wasn’t in there, feeding the child in the living room. He kept out of the places designed only for Tobias and in turn kept Tobias out of the places he chose for himself.

“There you are,” Dean said with a tired huff, stepping into the darkness of the study. They hadn’t fixed the lamp yet and neither did the room have any decoration. There were lighter spots on the walls where pictures used to hang and the wooden floor was scratched. Castiel had put a single armchair in it, facing the windows. This was where he went for silence when the heat of summer got too suffocating, when his legs were tired from walking in the high grass and his light skin was red with heat and sunburn. Dean usually respected this room as Castiel’s sanctuary after Sam had given him a speech that boiled down to Castiel needing his space and a room of his own. Castiel knew that Dean didn’t like it and didn’t particularly understand it. “Why did you need a time-out now? It’s the middle of the night, baby.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Castiel said and already got up from the armchair. He didn’t want to talk in here. Dean backed out of the room when Castiel turned towards him. The corridor was lit by the soft glow coming out of the nursery.

“You could have woken me up,” Dean assured him, gentle as he put his hand in the small of Castiel’s back, pulling him towards his own body slightly to kiss his head. Castiel didn’t say anything and they passed the open door of the nursery. “I usually get up around this time anyway… He’s been surprisingly quiet tonight.”

“You do?” Castiel wondered, but didn’t follow Dean when he went to check on Tobias. It was one of Dean’s fretful habits; whenever Tobias was being too quiet he would need to check if he was still breathing. Castiel didn’t know Dean could be that fearful simply because the boy wasn’t crying. Dean laughed silently when he walked back out, ushering Castiel into their bedroom. Like the rest of the house, it was still very much a work in progress. The walls were painted and they had a pretty nice bed, but their clothes were piled onto mismatched chairs.

“He usually starts crying once or twice a night. I just change his diapers and walk around with him until he settles down. It’s enough to appease him.” Castiel frowned at that, even as Dean pulled him into the bed and under the covers.

“But-“ Dean put a finger to Castiel’s mouth, soon replacing it with soft lips.

“It’s okay… If I couldn’t deal with it I’d wake you up. But he’s not a fussy child usually.” Dean closed his eyes and settled down on the pillow. “Just go to sleep, Cas.” Castiel nodded slowly, turning around so Dean could pull him towards him, arms wrapping around Castiel’s chest. There was a tightness in there that not even the protective embrace of Dean’s arms could ease up. Castiel didn’t sleep much that night, his ears always open to the faintest sound coming from the nursery.

The house was silent.

 

* * *

“Maybe you need a hobby, or a job.” They were sitting in the living room, the windows opened to the summer storm raging outside.

“He has a job, Sammy,” Dean said, rubbing Tobias’ feet as he kept kicking them excitedly while suckling. “I think being a mom is a full-time job.” Castiel looked away from Tobias’ pink, glistening mouth to Dean. Dean was frowning. It wasn’t hard to see that he disliked the topic Sam had brought up.

“This isn’t your decision, Dean,” Sam argued with lowered eyebrows and turned to look at Castiel.

“It isn’t yours either,” Dean countered. “The guy doesn’t even have a high school degree. He’s like a, I don’t know. High-school drop-out teen mom.”

“You’re a high-school drop-out, Dean, and-“

“And do you see me performing any qualified jobs? We might be living on Bobby’s allowance, but we have to focus on the important stuff. And that’s being proper parents to Toby. I mean look at him,” Dean said, nodding down at the boy. “He’s just over a month old. He needs us.” Sam was still looking at Castiel and he could see the anger and irritation on the younger Winchester’s face.

“Okay, fine,” Sam said and rose. He put his hand on Castiel’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before he left the living room.

“Where are you going?” Dean called after him.

“Looking for a job,” Sam replied and left the house. Dean snorted. Tobias unattached himself from Castiel with a wet smack and started squirming and cooing. Castiel was glad that whenever Tobias had satisfied his hunger, he slipped into a pleasant daze where the danger of him staring at Castiel and grabbing at him with demanding hands was minimal. Dean picked his son up and held him to his chest.

“Cabin fever,” Dean said with a snort and Castiel kept quiet.

Later, in the secrecy of Castiel’s study, Sam handed him a thick notebook as well as some pencils. It was the first of a number of gifts that Castiel would receive from Sam, but the one he’d always cherish the most. There were dozens of blank pages and Castiel felt a startling desire to fill them all.

 

* * *

While Dean could be very gentle, he also had his moments where he was unusually demanding.

“Look, Cas. Toby is almost two months old and I think I can count the number of times you’ve touched him out of your free will on one hand.” Castiel was startled by Dean’s sudden accusation, especially as he had just come into his study when he had been in the middle of drawing. “You hole yourself up in here and – what are you even doing?” Dean looked around the room. Sunlight streamed through the three large windows. Next to the armchair he now had a small shelf that started to fill with books, and a small table. White pieces of papers, some of them ripped into smaller bits, were pinned to the wall. Castiel himself was bent over his notebook.

“I’m writing,” Castiel said, putting the fountain pen on the page. Dean just lifted his eyebrow and came into the room. “Sam gave me a few things…” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Why does this make you angry?”

“Why are you doing this?” Dean asked with a weary voice and Castiel frowned at him in confusion.

“I’m… Because I enjoy it?” he answered and, despite not wanting anybody to see what he was doing just yet, he held the book up to Dean. The page was opened on what he was working on; it was the sketch of an Indian woman, dressed in simple clothes, next to her picture were lines in Sanskrit. “She was a devout woman who lived six hundred years ago. She had a most remarkable voice and her songs were stunning, Dean. And nobody remembers them.”

“Okay, but you know that you could be out there, singing songs to your son, right?” Dean said, approaching enough to put his hand on Castiel’s table. Castiel inched back slightly, disliking how Dean’s eyes flew over the things in his room, and showing nothing of the wonder Castiel himself felt. “And he doesn’t care if it’s church hymns or freaking Bollywood numbers!” He knocked his fist on the table, making Castiel flinch and an old peanut butter jar with brushes clutter to the floor. Castiel kept his head lowered, pressing his lips together nervously until Dean took his fist away again and rubbed his face. He looked up and Dean shook his head.

“I’m sorry…” Castiel said and put the book away with slightly trembling hands. He felt awful. The room was suddenly cold and dark and repulsive.

“No… Wait…” Dean replied and grabbed Castiel’s hand when he wanted to walk past him. But Castiel pulled his hands away and lifted one, his index finger raised to silence Dean. He couldn’t say anything though, just kept his eyes on the floor and swallowed. “Cas...”

For the first time since they lived here Castiel locked himself into the bathroom.

 

* * *

The situation between himself and Dean was tense in the days following their not quite argument. Sam, who took courses in the evening and sorted piles of books in the library during the day, felt the tension once the weekend came round and he walked into a rather cloudy atmosphere hanging over the kitchen.

“Uhm… What’s wrong?” Sam asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee, while Castiel put freshly baked buns on the table. “Smells good, Cas.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said at the same time as Dean said:

“Nothing’s, wrong Sam. Eat your breakfast.” Sam widened his eyes, but took a seat wordlessly. “When’s Adam coming over?”

“Uh… Early after-noon I think, why?” Sam wondered and looked at Castiel. “Dude, you both look like you haven’t slept in a couple of days. Is Toby sick?”

“Nothing’s wrong with Toby,” Dean answered flatly, “I think even you would have noticed.” Sam raised his eyebrows at that before he frowned slightly at the accusation hidden in Dean’s words.

“Dean, I’m sorry that I’m away so often, but you told me that you’ve got it covered,” Sam said, “but if you need me to baby-sit just tell me.” Dean sighed and shook his head, but didn’t say anything. Sam turned his head towards Castiel, who tugged his hands into his armpits and looked rather forlorn. Sam’s eyes softened and he lowered his head.

“Hey, Cas, Adam said his mom had a special recipe for blueberry pie he can teach you.” Castiel perked up at that.

“He’d better have a good recipe for pecan pie too,” Dean said and Castiel shook his head bemusedly. “No offence, Cas. But the last recipe you dug up was just odd.”

“It was a specialty. It’s your taste buds that are odd,” Castiel countered, earning himself a smile from Dean. Sam breathed in relief.

“But get some sleep you two, really… You look beat,” Sam told them, “I’ll watch Toby.” Dean darted Castiel a look which he returned. Assessing, probing, questioning. Castiel nodded.

“Okay. Thanks, Sammy,” Dean said, drinking his coffee. “We will.”

 

* * *

Castiel was glad to see Adam again and the young man still held a gaze of gratitude and awe in his bright eyes.

“You know, Bobby is okay and all that, but man, that guy can be difficult,” Adam said, flopping down on the couch.

“Well, you could move in with us, we have the space,” Sam mused, putting down a beer in front of him. Adam took it and grinned.

“Yeah, thanks. But I managed to get a place in the dorm. It wasn’t that difficult using my life’s pathetic sob story. Tweaked of course.”

“Of course, well done, Adam,” Sam said, raising his beer in acknowledgement.

“Though I think ‘sorry that I dropped out, I was eaten by ghouls’ would have sounded pretty legit too,” Adam snorted and Castiel frowned.

“Speaking so lightly of suffering is quite an irritating Winchester habit,” he commented and Sam and Adam both looked at him before they started chuckling.

“There are various ways to deal with pain, Cas,” Adam said, “trying to be its master by pretending it wasn’t as bad as it was is one of them.” Castiel continued frowning, tilting his head slightly.

“And that does work?”

“Not particularly,” Sam confessed. “But keeping it in and making it eat you up from within doesn’t help either.” He gave Castiel a pointed look that made him shrink back into the cushion. Adam didn’t seem confused and Castiel suspected some sort of communication happening between at least Sam and Adam.

“When Zachariah brought me back to be Michael’s plan B you were angry,” Adam said after a while and Castiel nodded, unsure what he wanted to say. “And you showed it. What do you do now when you’re angry?”

“I remember beating Dean up and I don’t think that’s advisable now…” Both Winchesters snorted. “I don’t get angry…”

“Well then… frustrated?” Adam rephrased and Castiel looked at him suspiciously.

“What are you trying to tell me?” he asked and Adam sighed.

“Cas, I’m not living with you guys and even I can see that you’re completely tense. I mean you look spooked!” Castiel didn’t say anything and Adam inched slightly closer. “Is Dean treating you… roughly?”

“He is…” Castiel stopped and sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Sometimes.” He shrugged helplessly. Sam exchanged a look with Adam, but before the younger of the two could say anything the creaking of the floorboards announced Dean’s arrival. Castiel wasn’t sad to have this conversation cut short, but he wasn’t particularly happy about Dean arriving to show off Tobias.

“And here he is!” he announced, rocking the baby slightly in his arms before holding him out to Adam. Tobias stared at him with wide eyes, but then he reached out. “Everything’s so fascinating, right, Toby?” Adam took the baby a bit clumsily, but with caution.

“He grew quite a bit! The last time I saw a picture he was tiny!” Adam rubbed Tobias’ belly and Castiel again was hit by shame that everybody was so at ease around the boy while he himself felt ill. “I don’t know if this is too invasive to ask, but how exactly was he born?” Dean didn’t say anything and looked at Castiel.

“My body adapted. I produce the necessary nourishment as well…,” Castiel explained and Adam’s eyes flitted to Castiel’s chest before he forced himself to look up into Castiel’s face again.

“I probably shouldn’t be too surprised, I guess,” Adam said with a light, slightly embarrassed chuckle. “He really is cute though.” Tobias started waving his fists, then he turned his head away and looked at Castiel, reaching out, gurgling. Castiel gave a start, the huge blue eyes of Tobias locking onto him as he continued to wave his demanding hands at him.

“Mommy time,” Dean decided with a laugh and if he noticed Castiel’s wide-eyed stare he didn’t comment on it.

“You’re calling him Tobias’ mommy?” Adam wondered as he leant over to put Tobias in Castiel’s arms. He froze though when he noticed Castiel’s rapid breath and the trembling of his hands as he lifted his arms to make space on his lap.

“He gave birth to him… So I guess that makes him his mother…? Castiel’s never voiced protest,” Dean explained and lifted an eyebrow when Adam hesitated handing Tobias over.

“Cas?”

“I’m… fine. It’s okay,” Castiel said after he had cleared his throat. Adam slowly handed the boy over and Castiel stiffly rearranged him so that Tobias could clutch at Castiel’s fingers, his arms, his shirt.

“You don’t look okay,” Adam observed and Dean sat down heavily.

“I just don’t like…” he broke off and shook his head. Adam wanted to say something, but Dean reached around Castiel, holding his hands in his and guiding him. He held him and softly rocked both Castiel and Tobias. Castiel’s expression changed slightly and after a while Tobias’ eyelids drooped.

“It’s okay, baby,” Dean whispered and kissed the soft skin behind Castiel’s ear. “Everything’s alright.” Castiel closed his eyes and pressed his face against Dean’s neck. “I’ve got you. It’s alright.”

 

* * *

When Adam left on the next day, Dean crawled into bed.  He put his hands around Castiel, spooning behind him, pulling him close. His movements were slow and gentle, but determined.

“I’m sorry that I snapped at you a couple of days ago,” he said and Castiel sighed, tilting his head backwards so Dean could caressingly stroke the skin of his throat. Then his collarbones and the still aching swell of his nipples. “I’m so sorry.” Castiel didn’t know an adequate reply to that so he moved around a bit, lining his back against Dean’s front. Dean kissed his shoulder.  “Cas…” Dean slowly moved his hips, rubbing his groin against Castiel in a slow up and down. It wasn’t particularly sexual, but it was physical. It was closeness. It felt familiar even though Dean had never been slow or gentle.

“It’s okay. Go on,” Castiel breathed and kissed Dean’s fingers as they moved up to his mouth. They wrapped around his jaw, turning his head so Dean could kiss him. This was the first time they even got close to doing anything sexual together since before Dean had almost said yes to Michael. He felt Dean harden against him as his movement sped up slightly. Castiel reached behind him, between their bodies to pull down first Dean’s underwear, then his own. The first touch of naked skin on skin had Castiel moan silently. Dean grabbed Castiel by the waist and kissed his neck as Castiel wrapped his fingers around his dick and started moving his hand in the rhythm of Dean’s movements.

“Shit,” Dean said with a breathy laugh, “we’ve never done this!”

“Uhm, it’s slightly uncomfortable, my arm’s at an odd angle,” Castiel admitted and Dean laughed. He stopped moving and slipped his hands down the smooth skin of Castiel’s hips to his groin. “I’m not-“

“But you’re enjoying it?”

“I guess so?” Dean smiled and pushed at Castiel so he turned around, facing him now. “Ah… That’s better.” He leant his head on Dean’s shoulder and continued to jerk Dean off. If it was too slow or too soft for Dean he didn’t say anything. He simply kissed Castiel’s hair and ran his fingers up and down his shoulder and arm.

“It’s a bit easier if there’s lube… or spit,” Dean said and Castiel frowned down at the dark head peeking out of his fist. It was already shiny, but it was true that his hand didn’t glide properly.

“We never used that when we had sex,” Castiel said and Dean winced. “Sorry.” He relaxed his grip on Dean and Dean licked his own palm. He taped the back of his fingers against Castiel’s fist until he let go. He quickly moved his hand up and down, spreading the saliva. Castiel wrapped his hand around Dean’s fist, following the movement both with his hand and his eyes until Dean let go again and Castiel could continue on his own.

“Yeah… We should have had though… Didn’t it hurt?”

“It did hurt,” Castiel agreed. “Better?”

“Yeah. We’re totally using lube next time, Cas…” Dean promised, then his breath hitched. “Doing good, baby.” Castiel turned his head to kiss Dean. A soft, languid kiss that broke off when Dean hissed, his body tensing slightly. His hips started moving, up into the tunnel of Castiel’s fist. It didn’t take long for Dean to come with a low grunt, spilling over Castiel’s fingers and his stomach. He panted loudly, trying to regain his breath. After a while he turned to the side, disregarding the stains that Castiel’s fingers left on his skin. He wrapped his arms around Castiel and huffed contentedly in his hair. “That was awesome, Cas.”

“You usually take longer before you come, unless you are drunk,” Castiel said and Dean had to laugh.

“Shut up.”

“What? Why?” Dean kissed him and Castiel did shut up. Dean tentatively brushed his fingers over Castiel’s lap again. “I’m not physically aroused, Dean… I’m sorry.”

“Dude, don’t apologize. This was the first time I got it up properly since Toby’s birth!” he said and yawned. “Thanks, Cas.” He mumbled, drawing his fingers through Castiel’s hair.

“You’re welcome.”

 

* * *

Castiel fell ill for the first time just when things between him and Dean seemed to be progressing into the right direction. Dean found Castiel lying unconscious in the corridor on the first floor and didn’t think twice about calling an ambulance. It was food poisoning and Castiel felt wretched for the better part of a week. Once the vomiting stopped Dean actually managed to get a few words out of Castiel, but they were all rather unfavorable verdicts on his human condition.

“It’s terrible,” he cried, burying his face in the pillow, body shaking under Dean’s calming hand. “I hate being human. I wish I had burnt up completely.”

“Don’t say that, Cas… This will pass. You’ll be fine.” Castiel took a shuddering breath, turning so that he was lying on his back.

“I will never be fine again,” he said miserably and Dean clenched his hand into a fist. “I’m not made to be a human. I’m not made to be a parent. Everything went wrong. I just wish I had never-“ he broke off, covering his face with his hands and sobbed. Dean didn’t know what to say, so he simply stroked Castiel’s arm. 

 _I wish Tobias had never been born_ hung over them like a poisonous cloud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while to come up with Tobias as the name for the baby, but now I'm quite pleased with it. Naming babies is hard!  
> Maybe I should have warned for "Dean using a lot of pet names for Cas" too. ♥


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the recovery chapter, but it still deals with: depression, Dean not knowing how to deal with it and trying to make Cas enage with their child, isolation, Castiel referred to as "mother", glimpses of breast-feeding, sexual activities, mentions of body alteration due to birth (body alterations not involved in sexual activity. Just... so I've mentioned it)
> 
> The last part! The second half of this chapter is mostly just trying to make up for the pain of the previous parts. ♥

Castiel recovered, but he spent a lot of his time sitting in the worn armchair in his study or out on the porch when the mid-November weather wasn’t too cold and grey. While he had felt weak and diminished before, he now felt confined in his human body. Everything was difficult; eating, walking, shaving. The most trivial things seemed like huge mountains to climb and Castiel wished he could dig himself a hole in the hard earth and just hibernate. Hibernate until he was human no more.

But while Castiel slipped down into a deeper rooted sense of helplessness and melancholia, Tobias started being more demanding. He wanted attention, noise, laughter, touch in all the hours he was awake. Tobias started to branch out of the nursery, gaining ground and chasing Castiel into the corners. Even when he was in his study, already less sacred, he could hear the noise of his toys, his cooing and gurgling and Dean singing off-key and telling him tales of adventure. Sam attempted to jump in for all the instances where Castiel couldn’t muster the nerve to face the boy, but his time was limited and he couldn’t be Castiel’s defense line against the baby.

Then Dean started talking about a potential job that the guy living on the farm next to them had promised him. Castiel had no idea Dean even had contact with their neighbors. Castiel had no idea what lay beyond the grass and the corn fields. He didn’t know who lived along the road in the houses he could see out of the living room window. He didn’t know what kind of town lay closest. He didn’t know what library Sam worked in. He lived and breathed in this brick building, with nothing connecting him to the outside.

“I know I told you that I wouldn’t leave you alone for more than half an hour when Sam’s not home, but we gotta be realistic here. I just… I need to do something, Cas. And we could use more money.”

“I could work,” Castiel argued and Dean just shook his head. “Why not?”

“Cas… You haven’t set foot out of this house for more than short walks around our property. You don’t know how to drive a car, you don’t know how to go shopping, you don’t know how to lie convincingly. You’re not gonna find a job, okay? Besides, you look like a homeless junkie at the moment. Before you put on enough weight to look healthy you should stay here.” Castiel wanted to argue, but Dean lifted his finger at him. “You’ve got to deal with Toby, Cas. You’ve _got_ to, understand? He’s reaching out for you all the damn time!” Castiel opened his mouth, shaking his head in obvious incredulity.

“I have,” he started and breathed in sharply, “carried him in my body and given birth to him despite all odds. I _have_ dealt with him! I don’t owe him and I don’t owe you!”

Sam just gaped at both of them, seeing as he chose just that moment to enter the living room. Castiel stomped out and up the stairs. He felt like slamming the door to his room, hard enough to break the frame, but he didn’t. He closed it quietly and dragged himself to the armchair. He could hear Tobias crying in the living room.

It was the first time Castiel had shouted. But once the anger cooled down to its usual anxious bubbling just beneath the surface, he felt disgusting.

 

* * *

Dean was angry, Castiel saw it in the tense line of his shoulders and the glares he sent Castiel’s way. They didn’t talk much, but when Dean did it was ridiculously spiteful.

“Tobias is hungry, or are you gonna let him starve now?” was just one of his lower blows that had tears of frustration streaming down Castiel’s face while nursing the boy. Tobias wasn’t particularly pleasant either. Almost as if he picked up on Castiel being miserable and Dean being harsh he kept on crying and struggling.

It was Sam who exploded after watching them for two days. He summoned both into the living room.

“This has got to stop!” he said, his expression thunderous. “You’ve got to talk about this!”

“What is there to talk about? Huh? Cas is opting out on parental duties! You can’t be fine with that!” Dean argued, which had Sam draw his hands through his hair in frustration.

“Jesus Christ, Dean! Cas is suffering from post-natal depression!” Sam shouted and Dean seemed taken aback for a second before he snorted.

“Then he better get over it! There’s nothing to be depressed over! It’s not the freaking apocalypse, it’s a baby!”

“Dean, don’t you see it?” Sam said with a sigh, he sounded tired, but other than Castiel he actually had the energy to talk back. “You’re both hurting, you both have no clue how to deal with this situation. So I’m going to take Tobias and let you two talk.”

“W… What, wait!” Dean argued, standing up from the couch. “Why take Tobias away? It’s about him!”

“It’s not about him! Not only, Dean. And I’m taking him away because I don’t want you to use him to guilt Castiel into anything. Okay? This has to be about you and him.” Sam took a deep breath, then he clapped Dean on the shoulder and left him standing in the archway to the hall. Castiel slumped down in his seat, pulling his sweater around him. Dean shook his head and sat down in the armchair opposite Castiel. He was brooding, his chin resting on his knuckles and his eyes were dark and stormy.

Sam returned, Tobias a bundle of wiggling layers in his arms.

“Okay, guys. I’m going now…,” he said, “I’ll bring back dinner.” Finding both Castiel and Dean unresponsive he sighed. “Look… I’m not doing this to spite you two… But neither of you can go on like this. You’ve got to figure out how your relationship can go on… Or… separate.” Both Castiel and Dean looked at him with wide eyes. “Really… If Castiel can’t bear dealing with Tobias and you react with violence and anger when you’re frustrated by him, then it might be for the best…” Sam didn’t seem happy at all, but he nodded at them and then he was out of the door.

Silence hung between them. Dean broke it by a long-drawn groan.

“Great,” he hissed and then both of them relapsed into silence.

“Maybe we really should talk,” Castiel offered, but when Dean said nothing he got up and went into the kitchen. He took the moment of quiet when the water boiled to think about what he might say. What Sam had said. Post-natal depression. Adam had asked him about it just before he left, just like he asked if Dean was abusive. Castiel had disliked putting such clear cut labels on anything Dean and he did and felt.

_Don’t feel bad. You’re not alone in this. Talk about it. Get treatment. Get acceptance._

Castiel took a shuddering breath when the kettle started hissing. He didn’t know what to do.

 

* * *

Dean took the offered coffee silently, but when Castiel looked at him he seemed tired, weary.

“So you don’t want to stay here? Is that it…?” Dean started and Castiel sighed. Why did it have to start with such a loaded question?

“I wish it was so simple, Dean… But it isn’t…”

“It’s your depression thing, isn’t it?” Dean asked and Castiel looked at him. “I mean, I get it. We’ve all had our rough spots and I saw…” Dean lifted his hand, looking for words, but then he balled it and put it to his lips. He was silent for a while, his eyes conflicted, but then he exhaled and looked at Castiel. “You weren’t just taking your time to bond with Toby. You had panic attacks when you were holding him. But I don’t understand why, Cas.” Castiel turned his tea around in his hands, feeling the slight burn in his palms. “I know Sam said not to make this about Toby and I try not to. But I feel it _is_ about Toby. Is it because you’re terrified of making mistakes? Because I can tell you that the biggest mistake you could make is to ignore him and-“

“That’s not the biggest mistake, Dean,” Castiel interrupted, his brows drawn down. “The biggest mistake I could make is go on trying to be a family out of obligation while I can’t do it. And I can’t do it, Dean.” Dean took a moment of shocked silence to process this.

“So you’re leaving?” Castiel shook his head, covering his face with a palm. “You dislike Tobias, is that it?”

“I don’t dislike him, but I… I’m angry, Dean. I’m frustrated. Tobias cost me the very last bit of Grace I still had. Giving birth to him has made me lose what I’ve been for millions of years. And I don’t think this is something you can understand.” Dean hesitated to answer, taking a sip of his cooling coffee.

“You blame him for being human?” Dean asked, “because you know he’s just a baby. He isn’t at fault for the circumstances of his birth.”

“I know that, but it doesn’t change the way I feel.”

“Then… I don’t know… Maybe if you got more comfortable with being human would make you more comfortable with being a parent too?” Dean said and Castiel saw how desperate he was to come up with a solution that didn’t end in them breaking up.

“How, Dean? You made it apparent that if I would go out I’d fail at fitting in. You don’t exactly trust me with anything but being Tobias’ mother... And now that I disappointed you… what else is there for me?” Castiel answered with a sigh, leaning back against the pillows on the couch, pulling a blanket over his lap. Dean kept silent. After a long while Dean got up and sat back down next to Cas.

“Okay… You _didn’t_ fail me, Cas. And I’m sorry that I was being narrow-minded, but… this isn’t easy for me either. I can rear Toby on my own if you have to leave… But I…” He pulled Castiel’s hands into his own, warming them and raising them to his mouth. “I really hope you’ll stay.”

“I want to stay, but I don’t know if I can,” Castiel told him silently. “I feel sick and ashamed of myself so often… And I really don’t know what I’m supposed to do when you disapprove of most of my attempts to do things for myself.”

“You’re still angry…,” Dean said, keeping Castiel’s hands in his lap. “About the time when I barged into your room…”

“Not angry… distraught…” Castiel corrected and Dean let his head hang. “I finally found something to do that was pleasurable and you were angry at me for it…”

“I was angry because Tobias had thrown up the food I tried to give him and it took me two hours to calm him and you were sitting in your room through it all. I wasn’t angry because you were doing something for yourself.” Castiel looked at him. “Okay, maybe I was… I just…”

“You’re really possessive, Dean…,” Castiel said with a sigh. “Since we live here you’ve opposed any attempt of me getting out of the house and away from Tobias… And I…” Castiel pulled one hand out of Dean’s hold and pointed to the window. “I don’t even know who lives there.”

“Mrs. Cole? She’s a gossipy old lady with a garden gnome fetish, there’s no point in knowing her.”

“That should be my decision, Dean,” Castiel told him sternly and Dean actually flinched and looked sheepish.

“You’re right…” Dean said with a sigh. “I’ll try, okay? I’ll try not to keep you on a leash or tell you what to do… But… But you’ve got to put work into it too, okay? Maybe try to… approach Tobias once, just when you feel ready and see what happens? Can we agree on that?”

“But I don’t know when I’ll feel ready…,” Castiel admitted. “Maybe I’ll never be ready…” Dean didn’t say anything, but he leant closer. Slow enough for Castiel to draw back, but he didn’t. He lifted both hands to Dean’s face and kissed him.

“We’ll see… And I’m sorry… I want you to be happy, Cas… With or without me… And Tobias…”

“Thank you…,” Castiel said and put his arms around Dean’s neck, holding on to him.

 

* * *

The first time Castiel went out was on the next day to visit Sam at the library. Dean had been uneasy to let him go all on his own, but Castiel wasn’t a child. He put on a couple of layers of clothes and his trenchcoat. He walked the ten minutes it took to get to the closest bus stop, looking at the front yard of Mrs. Cole (not as many garden gnomes as Castiel had expected) and passing a number of houses as he got into the suburbs where his bus was. Nobody tried to talk to him, not on the way to the bus, not in the thirty minutes it took to get to the stop closest to the library.

Sam blinked at him in confusion when he turned up at the information desk.

“I’d like to have a library card,” he said and smiled when Sam started laughing. “Hello Sam.”

“Am I hallucinating?” Sam joked and handed him a piece of paper. Castiel shook his head and took out his pencil case from his small backpack. “Did you escape?”

“No, after I nursed Tobias I said I’d go visit you and left. And I need a public transport card of some sort… Dean was very reluctant to hand over money and I don’t want to beg every time I need a ticket…” He stated filling in his name, but stopped with a frown. “I don’t have an ID,” he said after a while. “I don’t have a last name…”

“We could get Bobby onto it… You’ll need one if you’ll leave the house,” Sam said gently. “Take your time to decide…” Castiel kept silent, immersed in the problem presented to him and retreated to a quiet corner of the library. This was the moment where he could forge his own identity. 

He leant back in his chair and closed his eyes to the gentle sounds of pages rustling and the smell of paper and ink.

 

* * *

“Cas Milton? You chose Anna’s name?” Dean was, as Sam had warned, slightly vexed when he turned the new ID around in his fingers. “Anna was a psycho who wanted to kill our parents! What was wrong with Winchester?”

“Dean…,” Castiel said and Dean bit his lips. “I can still take on your name.” Dean frowned, but then his entire face lit up as he understood. He coughed and tried to get the smirk off his face.

“You’re 32? Was that Jimmy’s age?” Castiel nodded and Dean looked at the picture. “You kinda look like a chick in this picture. What did you do with your hair?” Castiel took the ID back and put it into his new wallet next to the library card. “Don’t pout at me, sweetheart, it’s cute.” Castiel rolled his eyes, then he tugged his too long bangs behind his ears. “Yeah. Totally cute.” He pressed a kiss to Castiel’s exposed forehead.

Tobias shook his rattle and both looked down at the floor where he was wiggling around on his colorful mat. Having his parents’ attention he let the rattle fall from his fingers and lifted both arms up. He looked at Castiel, cooing happily, but when Castiel didn’t react his sounds became distressed.

“Cas?” Castiel shot a look at Dean. “I’m here if you can’t… But just try?” Castiel hesitated, but then he nodded and kneeled down. Tobias’ frown eased up into excitement and he waved his chubby arms until Castiel’s hands were close enough for him to grab on to his sleeves. Castiel lifted him up, his arms stiff. Tobias still felt like he weighed far more than his arms could carry, but he didn’t drop him. Tobias smiled up at him and Castiel stared at him, but it didn’t deter Tobias’ delight. He moved his palms together in a silent clap and chewed his lips. “Are you okay?”

“Y… Yes...,” Castiel said, even though he wasn’t entirely sure. “Is he hungry?” Dean sat down next to Castiel and drew his finger over Tobias’ chubby cheek.

“I guess he just wanted the attention,” Dean said and Castiel looked at him doubtfully. Dean had to laugh. “I don’t speak baby, Cas. It’s a lot of trial and error for me too. You said you weren’t made for raising…”

“Fledglings,” Castiel supplied and Dean nodded, stroking Tobias’ dark blonde hair.

“Fledglings. Do you think a guy raised to be a Hunter knows how to be a perfect father? Heck, even a normal guy doesn’t instinctively know what every wail means. Or what exactly to do. I think parenthood is something you grow into. Something you have to allow yourself to grow into.”

“That sounds like something Sam or Adam told you,” Castiel managed to joke even as Tobias started pawing his chest.

“Hey, give me some credit. I’ve thought quite hard about this,” Dean argued and Castiel smiled at him. He leant over and kissed Dean, long and gentle, but then he put his free hand in Dean’s neck and deepened the kiss.

“I know. Thank you,” Castiel said after a while, licking his lips. Tobias made small sounds of protest and Dean laughed. “I think he’s hungry now.”

“See, you’re a quick learner.” Dean said and helped Castiel take off his sweater. “Dude, were you shopping with Sam or something? There are frills and flowers on your shirt.”

“Cute, right?” Castiel said with a slightly mocking smile and Dean had to laugh. “You said I looked like a… I can’t remember the exact words, but it wasn’t very nice.”

“Yeah, I know… Look, I don’t mind if you like girl clothes. And it’s okay that you decide things for yourself.” Castiel smiled at him, then he gave in to Tobias’ sounds of protest.

 

* * *

Castiel was in the garden during a surprisingly sunny after-noon in late November when he met his neighbors. Dean had started working at a garage recently and Castiel was alone with Tobias for long hours. It still made him uncomfortable, but Dean’s acceptance combined with doing things for his own amusement had helped him being less on edge. So he had agreed to give it a try.

He still tensed when the two women stopped on the sidewalk. Castiel had seen them in the bus and in town before, but he had never talked to them and he didn’t know their names.

“Hello,” he greeted, putting down the flower pot he had been painting. Both women smiled up at him and waved, before they followed the pathway to him.

“I hope we aren’t disturbing you,” one of them said. Castiel shook his head. “Very nice pots! Have you done them yourself?”

“Not the pottery…” he answered, looking at the pots drying on the veranda. “I’m Cas.” He held out his hands to who he learnt were Cynthia Cole and Beth Newton. He let them both into the house when they proved to be rather pleasant women.

“You’ve been living here for some weeks now and we thought that maybe it was time to meet you,” Beth explained.

“When we saw you start leaving the house… Well, we thought that maybe you felt more at ease here now and… pounced!” Cynthia said with a laugh and a movement of her hands. Castiel smiled reservedly, then he handed them coffee and biscuits.

“The older Mr. Winchester,” Cynthia continued when they were all comfortably seated in the living room. “ _Dean_. He’s a bit of a reserved man. Charming, sure, but whenever I ask about anything he’s… Hm… tight-lipped. I saw Sam with a baby a couple of times, but Dean just brushed it off.”

“He can be very cautious when it gets to family,” Castiel agreed. The signs that a child was part of this household were strewn all over the living room. Tobias was lying in his playpen by the window, because Castiel still got weak knees when he had to approach the nursery. He preferred to deal with him in the neutral zone of the living room. He got up and went to the playpen when both women looked at him expectantly. He peered inside and found Tobias stirring already, as if he knew that Castiel’s attention was on him. Beth and Cynthia started making noises of delight.

“Gosh, Beth, have you seen those eyes!” Tobias was blinking up at both of them, apparently startled, but he started smiling, waving his arms and kicking. It caused a new wave of appreciative sounds coming from the two women.

“He’s called Tobias…” Castiel explained and Tobias reacted to his voice by reaching up towards him. Castiel’s grip on the playpen tightened before he forced himself to relax with a deep breath. He knew that both women were watching his unsure movements as he lifted the child and held him awkwardly, before he returned to the couch.  Castiel preferred having Tobias on his lap over holding him to his chest unless he was nursing him.

“How old is he?” Beth wondered.

“Almost four months,” Castiel replied, peering down at the boy, but looking away again when Tobias stared right back. The baby made an unpleased sound and started squirming lightly.

“You don’t seem to be too comfortable with him,” Beth continued and Cynthia looked at her friend in surprise, before she looked back at Castiel. “Is he yours?” For a moment Castiel considered lying, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. So he nodded.

“Baby blues, Cas?” Cynthia asked with a gentle tone. Castiel had heard that expression before, Sam had used it more than once when talking to him.

“It wasn’t easy… There have been…” Castiel searched for something to explain about all the terrible things that had happened, about him falling and the apocalypse and Tobias dying at the snap of fingers before he was even born. “Complications… When I carried him…” The women looked puzzled for a moment and Castiel wondered if it had been a wrong choice of words. “The circumstances were bad. He wasn’t planned,” he amended. Cynthia’s eyes were travelling up and down his form, but the confusion cleared up on Beth’s face pretty quickly and she offered him a smile.

“It happens to a lot of us, trust me, Cas… Babies turn your entire life upside down… It needs time before everything has fallen back into place,” she said, patting his arm. Castiel nodded and looked back down at Tobias, whose eyes were drooping slightly but his hand was grabbing a fist full of Castiel’s shirt. He looked comfortable, happy to just lie on Castiel’s lap and be acknowledged by him. He smiled tentatively and Tobias opened his eyes again to show him a dazzling, joyful smile, accompanied by soft gurgling sounds.

“Aww, look at how cute he is!!” Cynthia cooed and reached out to tickle Tobias’ feet. Just like that, the heavy atmosphere on the living room had lifted.

It was odd how easy it was to get to talk to those two once they started sharing their own stories of when they had been young, foolish mothers. Dean was pretty taken aback when he returned from work to find Castiel nursing Tobias while chatting to the women about his artwork.

“Uhm… Hi ladies,” Dean greeted a bit awkwardly, but moved over to Castiel to kiss him with a soft “hey honey”, then he lightly pinched Tobias’ cheek. He shot Castiel a look, with his eyebrows raised, when he turned his back to the neighbors.

“Gosh, look at the time, Beth!” Cynthia said as if on cue and rose to her feet. Beth followed with a wink in Castiel’s direction. “We always watch our silly melodrama shows on a Wednesday, so we have to leave you! I’ll call you about the pots, sweetie!”

“Yes. Good-bye,” Castiel said and Dean just grinned at them tensely, watching them leave with loud chatter. Then he turned back to Castiel who had just finished with Tobias. The baby was already falling asleep again.

“What the hell, Cas?! You can’t just nurse Toby in front of them! You’re a guy! Guys don’t breast-feed babies!” Castiel tugged his shirt down, but lifted his eyebrows to shoot Dean a slightly irritated frown.

“Then I am no guy,” Castiel replied flatly and handed Tobias over for Dean to take back to the nursery. Dean snorted and followed Castiel up the stairs. Having arrived at the nursery door, Castiel turned towards Dean with a sigh. “Dean, look… I know you want to protect me, but you need to let me make my own decisions. Even if they backfire. They apparently found a plausible explanation that worked for them. I don’t care what they think. And you shouldn’t either.” He kissed Dean, then he turned around and went to his study.

Later that day Dean knocked on his door, but waited for Castiel to come out.

“What you said,” he started, “you’re right. You did good today. You even interacted with Toby when I wasn’t there. I’m proud of you, Cas.” He embraced him and kissed his forehead. Castiel smiled.

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

For their first Christmas, they invited Adam and Bobby, but also received a couple of guests throughout the day before. Tobias was usually the center of attention and Castiel was pulled into the group of other mothers Cynthia and Beth had introduced him to. There never was any awkwardness with them no matter what Dean said, but when Christmas’ Eve was over and their guests where gone Dean leant against the doorframe of Castiel’s study. Beat and moaning.

“If I have to answer another question about your junk I’m gonna salt and burn somebody,” Castiel heard him say. He didn’t turn away from his sketchbook yet, filling a page with a prehistoric love poem.

“Why would anybody want to know about my genitals?” Castiel asked, closing the book for the night and walking to the open door. He put his hands on Dean’s chest and lifted his head to kiss him softly. “And what did you say?”

“If someone that kinda sounds and looks like a guy gave birth to a baby, then that raises questions,“ Dean explained even though he was irritated. “I know they don’t mean ill, but I was still being unhelpfully vague.  I just said that you are Toby’s mom, but still my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend, girlfriend, I don’t really care,” Castiel admitted, putting his arms around Dean’s neck. “I’m just Castiel…”

“Come then, just Castiel,” Dean said with a laugh, pulling him to their bedroom. When they were under the covers, Dean’s hands moved to Castiel’s hip. “I actually don’t even know specifics about your junk… Did you heal?”

“No…,” Castiel admitted, allowing Dean’s finger to slip beneath the waistband of his pajama pants. His fingertips rubbed the seam of his underwear. “Adam told me I should see a gynecologist about it… Maybe it could be operated…”

“Is it necessary…?” Dean wondered and wiggled his fingers under the fabric. Castiel kissed his jaw, his breath hitching slightly when his fingers continued probing. “Your balls kinda shrank…” His fingers slipped over the opening the birth had created. Soft and warm folds of flesh not unlike a vagina.

“Dean,” Castiel moaned as he continued rubbing, but Dean apparently took the hint and wrapped his fingers around the base of Castiel’s cock. “I don’t know if I can…” Dean moved his hands experimentally a few times and Castiel gently bit along Dean’s jaw before he kissed him.

“Well, things are certainly stirring down there,” Dean joked and laughed when Castiel’s hands first covered Dean’s, guiding him before they then reached into Dean’s boxer shorts. “At least we’ve advanced to the stage of mutual hand-jobs.” Castiel shot him a dark glare that turned Dean on even more. It was, all in all, a successful closure to a stressful Christmas Eve.

 

* * *

The first, pleasant surprise for Dean’s birthday was to wake up the smell of pancakes and freshly baked bread. The next was to find Castiel in the kitchen, holding Tobias. He looked up once Dean came in, his eyes full of wonder. It was the look he had when he was bent over his notebook and it took Dean’s breath. Castiel was still so careful with Tobias, his arms trembling, his face flushed, but he smiled up at him.

“I… I took him out myself,” Castiel said at last, scared but hopeful. Castiel slowly walked up to him, softly shushing Tobias while the boy babbled. “Dean…” Castiel’s eyes were incredibly blue and wet.  Enraptured Dean watched him bend down slightly until Tobias reached out to touch Castiel’s chin. “Tobias…,” he whispered and Dean took a sharp breath. “Tobias, look.” There was something in Castiel’s voice (and it was the first time Castiel had actually talked to his child) that made Dean fix his eyes on the boy. Tobias blinked up at Castiel, then he turned his head around slightly until he spotted Dean. He immediately broke out in a smile and held up his hands. “Here’s Daddy,”

“Dada!” Tobias exclaimed and Dean put his hands to his face, not able to keep back the tears that sprang to his eyes. “Dada…!”

“Dean? Are you okay?” Castiel asked gently and Dean took away his hands. Laughing wetly.

“Yes, baby. I’m… I’m just overwhelmed.” He wiped his eyes and wrapped his arms around Castiel, kissing him.

“Hey, Toby! Good morning!” Dean said cheerfully, pulling the child out of Castiel’s arms. Castiel leant against Dean with a small sigh of relief. “Can you say Mommy too? Mama?” Tobias looked up at Dean, then he threw out one arm, pointing at Cas. “Yes, your mama!”

“Mama!” Tobias repeated eagerly.

“There you go! Such a good baby! I’m so proud of you both!” he said and kissed the shock off Castiel’s face until he too was laughing.

When Sam came into the kitchen to find out what all the noise was about, he was greeted by the sight of Castiel brushing his palm over Tobias’ head, Dean howling with laughter and tears streaming down his face and Tobias’ excited calls of “Dada, Mama”. He knew then that they were going to be okay.

They were finally going to be okay.

 

* * *

Castiel was glad to put Tobias to bed after a day out. Maybe the small exhibition the town held annually wasn’t the best venue for a seven month old baby, but Sam had carried him around and it he had attracted quite a few people to the stall Castiel and Cynthia shared. It had been, for all of them, very exciting.

He went back down into the living room, where Dean had decided to remain for a little longer in order to watch TV. He claimed that Sam spending the night out with a couple of friends was a good opportunity to watch his shows without his brother nagging about it.

When Castiel got downstairs though there was no TV show, no light, but the soft glow of candles. Dean pulled him into the room even as he still looked around in confusion. Dean kissed him gently.

“Dean, what-“ Castiel started, but Dean shushed him, giving him another quick peck on the lips. Castiel tilted his head to the side, squeezing Dean’s slightly sweaty palms.

“Cas…” Castiel watched in wonder as Dean slowly slipped down, knees on the carpet and Castiel’s hands in his. Castiel felt heat bloom on his cheeks and expanding in his stomach in what felt like both terror and delight. “I know we had a rocky start and I’m not even talking about me slamming a demon killing knife into your chest.” Castiel laughed, but tears were already pooling in his eyes. “Don’t cry yet! I’m trying to get through my speech,” Dean said, but his voice quivered and Castiel smiled, nodding wordlessly. “I know that I have caused you a lot of suffering and I wanted to thank you for sticking with me. I wanted to thank you for choosing the right thing. Over and over again. And I’m so, so sorry that you were in pain and that I didn’t make it easier for you. And I just want you to know that I’m grateful. I am damn grateful and humbled and amazed by you. And I-“ his voice faltered and he lowered his head, clearing his throat. Castiel gave his hands a reassuring squeeze. “I want to be with you, only you, until the day I die… I love you Castiel.” Castiel started crying, despite himself and Dean looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “Please, will you be my husband?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, his voice just a breath of air, almost no substance to it, but it didn’t matter. “Yes!” He fell to his knees and embraced Dean. “I love you too, Dean,” he said, kissing him. Dean laughed into the kiss. “And I’m happy, Dean… I’m happy I didn’t die. I’m happy I had Tobias. I’m happy I stayed. I’m happy to be here, with you.” Dean grinned faintly, but then he pressed his face against Castiel’s shoulder, muffling a sob he couldn’t hold back. Castiel held on to him, stroking his back. “Thank you.” He kissed the crown of Dean’s head. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

Castiel gazed at the starlit sky outside the window. He was nervous, aware of Dean’s eyes roaming over his naked body. They’ve been loving in the dark with their hands and mouths for months now, a slow build towards something. Maybe this moment and many more like it.

The house was empty, quiet, and Dean was watching him from the shadows where the moonlight didn’t reach.

“Are you sure?” he asked at last when Castiel’s hands had followed the path mapped by Dean’s eyes.

“I’m sure,” Castiel replied and turned around, raising himself on knees and palms. Behind him he could hear Dean’s rapid inhale of breath. The bed creaked and dipped. Dean’s warm hands found Castiel’s shoulder blades, both hands slipping down. One to his ass and one touching the still sensitive nipples, while his mouth trailed kisses along Castiel’s shoulders. Dean moved against him tentatively, slow movements building tension. He only took his hands off Castiel to coat his fingers in lube. They both were used to that now, Dean’s fingers slipping in and out, two, three stretching and caressing until Castiel was moving against Dean’s hand and clutching at the sheets.

Today, Dean took his fingers out before Castiel came.

“Please,” Castiel whispered and Dean kissed down his spine as he slowly pushed into the tight heat for the first time in almost a year. Castiel recalled the first time. The anger, the rage, the pain. The downpour of rain and Dean’s harsh breathing.

The bed creaked under Dean’s movement and Castiel’s arms trembled until he lowered himself down, face half hidden in the pillow. Dean reached around his hips, gripping him tight and moving his hand up and down. Castiel hissed at the mixture of pleasure and pain, the sounds muffled by the pillows. It was different now that he was a human. Dean kissed his shoulders relentlessly, but then he pulled out of Castiel’s body. Castiel lifted his head, but before he could ask, Dean grabbed him and turned him around. Castiel blinked up at Dean, finding his fiancé’s face inches before his as he bent down.

“Maybe we can try this,” Dean whispered into his ears, gently biting the soft flesh. Dean lifted Castiel’s legs over his shoulders and Castiel crossed his ankles behind Dean’s head. Dean’s hands found Castiel’s face, holding on, looking at him steadily as he slipped back in.

“Oh,” Castiel gasped, but couldn’t take his eyes off Dean’s face, even as the speed picked up. It was like it used to be; passionate, wild movement, Dean’s breathing loud in Castiel’s ears. But he was enraptured, totally taken in by the look of love and lust on Dean’s face, not broken even by his own orgasm. Dean bent down to kiss him as he too came, Castiel’s name on his lips.

Castiel was trying to regain his breath and Dean slipped out of him, lying down next to him. He gently wiped the damp hair out of Castiel’s face, kissing his cheeks and his nose.

“You alright, baby?” Dean asked and Castiel turned his head towards him, smiling. “I take that as a yes?”

“Yes…,” he agreed and traced Dean’s lips with his fingertips. “Are we going to do it again?”

“Whenever we feel like it,” Dean promised with a grin, giving Castiel’s hip a gentle pat.

“Now?” Castiel asked and Dean burst out laughing, but he nodded, kissing Castiel’s grinning lips.

 

* * *

For a growing half-angel, Tobias displayed almost no effects of the Grace he possessed. He grew like any child and even though he was a bit faster to pick himself up off the floor and walk and babble words, there seemed to be nothing angelic about him. Dean had feared surprise teleportation or flying food, but none of it happened.

“Mommy, flower,” the boy said, climbing up the steps to where Castiel was sitting on the veranda, working on painting vases. Castiel looked down at the three-year-old, tightly packed into winter clothes, his red nose almost the only thing visible under scarf and hat. Castiel looked at the plant Tobias held in his gloved hand. It was a rose, its petals fresh and deep red. He blinked in surprise, bending down to take it out of Tobias’ hand. It was early March, there shouldn’t be any roses, especially not in their garden.

“Thank you, Tobias. Where have you found this?” he wondered and Tobias climbed up on his lap, pushing back his hat and pressing his face against Castiel’s.

“In the snow,” he exclaimed proudly, then he pointed to a spot close to the steps leading up to the veranda. And slowly the thin layer of powder snow moved until another rosebud peeked through the white, slowly unfolding its petals, still glimmering with gentle blue light. It was Grace. “Pretty!” Castiel looked at it in wonder until Tobias turned around to stare up at him. “Mommy?”

“Yes, it’s beautiful, Tobias,” Castiel said and the boy grinned. Castiel was surprised - after 3 years of wondering - that his son actually could access his Grace, even if it only sufficed to perform minor acts of creation. “Let’s go inside. I’ll make you hot chocolate.” Castiel already found himself hoping that it would soon extend to heal the multitude of minor scratches and bruises the boy managed to acquire.

“With cinnamon,” Tobias decided and pulled Castiel back into the house. Castiel turned to look over his shoulder, where the single rose continued to stand proudly against the snow. “Sing the caveman love-song, mommy?” Castiel laughed as he prepared to boil the milk, Tobias staring up at the stove expectantly. “Matches hot chocolate.” There might be young boy logic in it, but somehow Castiel understood why he would say that. Pre-historic poetry and chocolate. Rich and dark liquid that felt like velvet in his throat. Castiel was glad that his son’s mind seemed to function in the same, sometimes bizarre (at least according to Dean) way his did.

“Okay,” he conceded and started with the low, guttural sounds of the first tunes. Tobias climbed up on the small footstool next to Castiel, but other than watching Castiel pour chocolate powder into a small mug, he wrapped his arms around Castiel’s middle. He pressed his nose against the wool of Castiel’s cardigan and joined in, effortlessly mimicking the foreign sounds. Castiel felt a gentle warmth where Tobias touched him, spreading from his belly to his chest, the joy of his child expanding inside of him. He reached down to kiss his honey blonde head. They sang loudly in the kitchen, Tobias drumming his hands on the counter top.

Dean returned home to chocolate powder staining the kitchen and Castiel laughing in the living room, painting stick figures on the wall with Tobias.

“Not _again_ … I just repainted the walls,” he complained half-heartedly, before he grabbed his husband around the waist and heaved him up into his arms. “Naughty!” he growled, kissing the powder off Castiel’s forehead. Tobias giggled and put his handprints on the wall.

“Mommy’s very naughty,” the boy repeated in a sing-song voice, “daddy spanks him!”

“Oh, come on!” Dean hissed, his face first draining of all color before it became red.

“He must have heard you yesterday,” Castiel whispered, barely containing his laughter. “Sam did too, by the way… If him apologizing for your bad dirty talking is anything to go by.”

“It wasn’t that bad…” Dean complained, but Castiel lifted an eyebrow and Dean lowered his head. “You were wearing panties, I couldn’t control myself.” Castiel smirked at him, then he reached up to kiss Dean.

“I’m wearing panties too, love. _Right now._ ” Castiel whispered in Dean’s ear and felt Dean tense up. He turned his face and wiggled his eyebrows at Castiel, his eyes dark and promising.

“You really are naughty,” Dean cooed, putting Castiel back down on his feet, so he could pinch his ass.

“Ugh, you two. Can’t that wait until I’ve taken Toby out to the cinema?” Sam’s voice said from the corridor and Castiel at least looking slightly embarrassed, while Dean just grinned cockily. Sam rolled his eyes and waved at Tobias. “Come one Toby, let’s get you dressed. And cleaned up!” Tobias got up, running to Sam who instantly picked him up. “Your parents are lost cases.”

“Uncle Sammy, want to hear a song?” Tobias asked excitedly as Sam carried him out of the living room.

“Sure, as long it’s not that odd grunting thing that sounds as if you learnt it by eavesdropping at your parents’ door.”

“Shut up, Sam!” Castiel and Dean called in unison and Sam’s laughter rang through the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this project! I certainly did!
> 
> I'm pretty sure you can figure out where the story ended and where the fluffy "epilogue" started. There was even more but I decided it had to end somewhere.
> 
> Thanks for reading! ♥♥


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